


13 Days of Shassie Psychoween

by MuiromeM



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autumn, Domestic, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuiromeM/pseuds/MuiromeM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 13 Halloween one-shots for my favorite time of year. Rated Teen and Up because I always like to be extra safe, but mostly just domesticity and fall time fluffiness inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Handing out Candy

**Author's Note:**

> So, I posted a bunch of [Halloween/Fall prompts](http://muiromem.tumblr.com/post/99431281982/domestic-halloween-fall-otp-prompts) on tumblr, but no one in the Shassie side of the Psych fandom has done any Halloween or even fall themed fanfiction. I figured I might as well try to do something if no one else would.
> 
> If I have the time, there should be a short one-shot with our favorite fake psychic and grumpy detective every day from October19th through 31st. Most are going to be domestic Halloween-time prompts, but if I have the energy and time, there might just be a [Spooky AU](http://muiromem.tumblr.com/post/99464766522/spooky-aus-for-your-otp) on October 31st.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and please review!

He’d only been gone maybe five minutes- hadn’t even gotten in the shower yet because he couldn’t find his towel. Surely leaving Lassiter alone to hand out candy couldn’t have been _that_ bad of an idea…

When Shawn had finally located his towel, he’d gone into the living room to ask Lassiter where the man had stashed Shawn’s special moisturizing body scrub (the one that smelled like you were running through a tropical rainforest and swimming in a pool of fruit punch). He’d walked five steps into the room, calling out that moving another man’s bathroom amenities was an “abomination”, and had stopped right in his tracks- bright green and blue towel with duck patterns all across it in one hand, a long-handled loofa in the other. It might have been an amusing sight if Lassiter hadn't been facing the other way.

“Now remember, you have to balance it in the palm of your other hand, but if it’s too tight and you don’t give your arm some slack, then the recoil will throw off your aim.” Lassiter was crouching in the open doorway, his gun in hand, a small flock of children staring at him with wide eyes. “Luckily, yours don't have that kind of punch. But if someone tries to attack you, just aim for their face and pull the trigger. It should stun them long enough for you to find a safe place to hide, or locate a known authority figure.”

Shawn couldn’t help but smile at the strange scene, looking at Lassiter on his knees by their front door, the orange lights from outside casting their glow around the group, blinking on and off as one of the battery-operated signs Shawn had bought was cackling and yelling “Boo!”. Lassiter just looked so serious, talking to a bunch of mystified trick-or-treaters like they were tiny soldiers in his battle for nighttime safety.

Moving closer, Shawn realized that the gathered children were all holding different colored squirt-guns. They were trying to emulate the pose and posture of the head detective as he explained proper gun use and safety to a tiny superman that looked to be six, someone in an old-school ghost costume made from a sheet, a couple boys in matching pirate costumes that were probably siblings, and a girl that was either really tall or around sixteen. Shawn rolled his eyes, grabbed the large plastic bowl still filled most of the way up with assorted candies from the small table by the door, and nudged Lassiter in his side with his bare foot.

“Lassie, what did I tell you about handing out plastic weapons?” he asked in something between exasperation and amusement. He grabbed a Snickers from the candy bowl and unwrapped it with his teeth, shower supplies now crammed under one arm. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you on candy duty- clearly it was too much for someone so inexperienced.  Handing out Halloween candy is no laughing matter you know! The responsibility is great, that's true, but I believed you had the strength to overcome the dangers.” He sighed dramatically, leaning against the door frame and shaking his head. “I guess I was wrong.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes, standing up straight again and putting his gun on the now empty table. Shawn was glad to see that the safety was on and he noticed now that the magazine had already been taken out and set on the stand. At least if his boyfriend was going to give firearms lessons to children, he was going to do it safely.

“I don’t see any of these hooligans complaining about it.” Lassiter said in his defense, gesturing to a couple of the children who had already started squirting each other and shrieking when the wind picked up and went straight through their damp costumes. “Besides, these kids aren’t even wearing appropriate reflective gear!”

Shawn popped another chocolate bar into his mouth before passing candies out to all of the gathered children. “It’s not like it’s even that dark out Lassie.” he argued, mumbling around something with peanuts. He quickly apologized to the kids for ending their lesson, waved goodbye, and sent the costumed youths on their way.

Once the door was shut and Shawn had put the candy bowl back in its place, he continued. “Let’s face it Lassie, our house could probably be seen from space at this point- I don’t think anyone is getting run over by a truck because they aren’t wearing flashing orange lights. Relax a little!”

To be fair, Shawn wasn’t even kidding- he and Gus had practically cleaned out the stores for lights, blow-ups, gravestones, fake skeletons, spooky signs, and animated statues to cover the house and yard. Between his love of Halloween and Lassiter’s insistence that a clear perimeter be laid out and dark sections of their yard be lit up or blocked off so children didn’t go somewhere they shouldn’t, their house was the brightest and most festive one for three blocks. They even had a ghost made of molded plastic that had a light in it so bright it could be seen all the way from the other end of the street.

Lassiter still crossed his arms, glancing through the front window as a new and larger group of children neared their house. “That’s not the point! You told me to give them candy, Shawn.” Lassiter complained, sounding as though the very thought was completely ridiculous. “It’s dark out, half of these children don’t have parental or adult supervision, and you’re trying to put them on a sugar high!” He shook his head, reassembling his gun and grabbing the bowl out of Shawn’s hands just as the doorbell rang.

Shawn couldn’t help laughing, opening the door and pausing to compliment the children on their costumes before grabbing some candy to distribute while Lassiter held the bowl and scowled. “Lassie, Lassie, Lassie…” he said, winking at a tiny girl in a Spiderman costume before giving her an extra-large Butterfinger _._ She grinned wide and thanked him. “It’s Halloween, everyone is _supposed_ to be on a sugar high.” He turned to the nearest child and wiggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t that right?”

This one, a boy around seven who was dressed like a ninja, glanced from one man to the other, his smile starting to fall when he saw Lassiter’s expression. “Uhhh…” he mumbled, looking somewhat frightened at the intimidating six feet of detective towering over him.

“Hey man, don’t mind him.” Shawn interrupted quickly, bending down to the kid’s level before he offered him some candy. He passed pieces out to the rest of the trick-or-treaters as fast as possible before hurriedly closing the door. Hands on his hips as he stood, Shawn swiveled to face his disgruntled boyfriend. “You know, you’re going to scare everyone away like that. If you're going to look like The Mummy, at least put a mask on; then they’re _supposed_ to be scared of you.”

Lassiter wasn’t remotely amused. “Very funny.” he mumbled, putting the bowl of candy down but taking one of the smaller chocolate-based bars to throw at Shawn’s head.

Tossing his towel and loofa onto their couch, Shawn avoided the wrapped projectile and headed for the kitchen, Lassiter following close behind. While the detective went to the fridge to grab one of the sodas Shawn kept in the back, Shawn spotted a cardboard box sitting on the table. “You’re supposed to give kids candy Lassie, that’s the whole point of the thing!” he said, opening the box to find Lassiter’s stash of squirt-guns. “Halloween’s all about costumes and decorations and more candy than anyone could eat in one night.”

Lassiter smacked Shawn’s hand away from the box. “Don’t mess with those.” he said, quirking an eyebrow when Shawn pouted. As a peace offering, he handed over a can of artificially flavored caramel apple soda.

Shawn accepted the drink with a smile and was soon gulping down half of it. “Where did you even get these?” he asked after coming up for air, picking up one of the plastic guns anyways and twirling it around. “Come on, it’s fall and probably freezing out there right now! You really think kids squirting each other and getting hypothermia on Halloween is better than a little bit of sugar?” he questioned skeptically.

Lassiter gave him a pointed look.

Shawn’s mouth fell open. “Seriously? You’re as bad as my dad; one year he tried to hand out health and safety pamphlets to the neighborhood kids. I only just managed to convince him otherwise and save us from being the house that everyone avoided like the black plague.”

Lassiter snorted but grabbed the squirt-gun back, tossing it into the box. “Alright I get it, I’ll give the hoodlums their bite-sized diabetes.” he said in defeat, going back into the living room. Lassiter might have been grumbling, but Shawn knew that if the detective didn't enjoy Halloween, he would never have agreed to decorate the house in the first place. Secretly, Lassiter loved any holiday that involved scaring children on purpose and spending the late hours of the night watching old movies with his ridiculous boyfriend (even if he wouldn't openly admit it).

“I thought you were getting a shower so we could get out of here soon anyways." Lassiter asked, wandering to one side of the couch and picking up Shawn's bath tools. "Isn’t there some party that you’re forcing me to go to in an hour or two?” As he wiggled Shawn's loofa around, the doorbell rang once more.

Shawn hurried over to the couch, bundling up his towel and grabbing the loofa back from Lassiter. “I was _going_ to shower, but you moved my moisturizing body scrub.” he whined, keeping an eye on the box of fiendish summer toys from the kitchen entryway to make sure Lassiter didn’t double-back for them.

“You ran out yesterday, remember?” the detective called back, thankfully going for the candy bowl like he'd agreed. “The new one is under the sink, which you would _know_ if you had actually put it away like I asked you to.” Lassiter opened the door and Shawn grinned when he heard the chorus of “Trick-or-treat!” from however many children had gathered. He watched in amusement as Lassiter’s back tensed and the older man began shuffling around the candy bowl, looking like he was worried they'd be ambushed by the children if he didn’t hand out the goods in a timely manner.

“Remember, two pieces per kid!” Shawn yelled as he finally ducked out of the living room and headed for the master bathroom to take his shower. He and Lassiter did have a masquerade to go to, after all, and he wouldn’t want to be late (candy fiasco notwithstanding).

Even as Shawn could make out the mumbles of “thank you” and “Happy Halloween!” from the departing children, Lassiter yelled, “Sugar is a gateway drug Shawn, remember that!” loud enough for him (and probably the neighbors) to hear, the front door banging shut moments later. “You’re perpetrating the upbringing of future ruffians, drug dealers, and criminals!”

Shawn cackled loudly at the mental image of ten-year-olds robbing grocery stores and dealing Three Musketeers in dark alleyways. Wrapped only in a towel now, he couldn't resist poking his head back out of the bedroom to call out, “ _Just think of it as job security!_ ”

He heard Lassiter groan in despair at the remark and, satisfied, Shawn finally got into the shower.


	2. Picking a Pumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite having a bunch of school and other stuff to do today, I managed to post one for day two! (shhhh it's still the 20th of October where I live so it counts). At least this one was a bit longer, so hopefully that makes up for it coming sort of (but not quit) late.
> 
> Planning to do another tomorrow so cross your fingers. Also thank you to anyone who left kudos or even bothered to read this at all.

 

The wind was soft and not too chilly yet, but he knew that as soon as the sun snuck beyond the horizon, the temperature would drop with it. Even in a sunny place like Santa Barbara, during the fall it could get pretty brisk in the evening, especially when you weren’t in the middle of a bustling city where the asphalt would keep the heat in.

Normally he’d be looking into new suspects for a case at the current hour, maybe interrogating someone, or even just sitting at the station with a cup of coffee, trying not to tear out his hair over the never-ending loads of paperwork. After how long he’d been standing around, paperwork didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Why the hell did I agree to this again?” Lassiter asked no one in particular; the question already passing from his lips at least twice in the past hour. He had left his suit jacket in the car due to the nicer temperatures earlier in the day, and now the wind was creeping past his rolled-up sleeves and unbuttoned shirt collar. Arms crossed abreast, he stood among scattered bits of dried hay and long, partially green vines, watching from afar as his boyfriend kneeled in the dirt and weeds.

“Quite Lassie!” Shawn Spencer shouted back melodramatically. He was prodding a large and very orange vegetable- apparently searching for imperfections. Both arms were outstretched and he had his palms gently pressed to the squash’s uneven surface. “I need absolute silence if I am to make a decision! These things take time and careful attention to details.”

Lassiter didn’t bother to hide his sigh; he’d had enough of Shawn’s “attention to details” for one day already. Never before would he have thought that choosing a pumpkin for Halloween would require a magnifying glass, but he’d seen Shawn with one earlier that day when they’d started on the front part of the patch. Now it seemed as though the ridiculous man had downgraded from outdated detective’s equipment to fondling the merchandise.

Caught somewhere between tired, irritated, and slightly amused, Lassiter just watched from afar as Shawn stood up, tilted his head to the side and circled the pumpkin he’d been looking at. “Finally find one you like?” the detective asked, not without a hint of sarcasm. “If you want to actually buy one before Thanksgiving comes around, you might want to work a little faster.”

Shawn just shrugged in response, shook his head, and moved onto the next pumpkin, prompting Lassiter to roll his eyes. Hours prior, they’d driven to a tiny farm miles away from the main city of Santa Barbara upon Shawn’s insistence. He’d begged and pleaded to Lassiter that they buy a pumpkin from a real pumpkin patch, instead of the local grocery store like any _sane_ person would, and like the generous (or probably mental), boyfriend that he was, Lassiter had finally agreed. He would have been perfectly fine with not having a pumpkin to carve at all (since it was cheaper, less messy, and saved him a lot of time that way), but apparently that was a “Halloween atrocity” and “completely unforgivable”.

Shawn’s words, not his.

There was also the fact that, he could either agree to go to a pumpkin patch for a couple hours, or have to sit through at least two days of pouting  from his boyfriend. Guster had gone off to some conference for the next three day so he couldn’t take Shawn in the Blueberry, and the fake psychic seemed to think that if they didn’t get a pumpkin _right then_ all the good ones would be gone.

So he’d bitten the bullet, and now they had spent something like three hours searching the pumpkin patch from one end to the other because Shawn couldn’t seem to decide on which pumpkin he wanted.

They all looked mostly the same to Lassiter; roundish, lumpy, and orange. There didn’t seem to be much variation or difference but any time Lassiter had picked one up and tried to suggest that they buy it, Shawn had been his usual whirlwind self- he’d grab the offending squash and pick it apart with his eyes for two minutes before shaking his head and putting it down.

The first one was too tall and thin for carving, another one had too many bad spots, and the third one Lassiter had picked up was apparently no good either. He’d tried to ask why (the thing had been large, almost perfectly round, and didn’t have any visible marks or blemishes on it), but Shawn had insisted that it would rot in less than a week and then it would be unusable anyways.

Lassiter didn't have the faintest idea how the hell Shawn could know that, but after working with him for so long (and now recently _living_ with him), he’d learned that sometimes asking questions just took up more time. So he’d put the pumpkin back where it belonged and decided that he’d just leave Shawn to the task and wait on the sidelines, watching as the sun kept dropping lower and lower in the mid-afternoon sky.

No one could ever accuse Carlton Lassiter of not having patience _ever_ again- of that he was sure.

After waiting another few minutes without any pumpkin to show for it, Lassiter finally decided that enough was enough. Wandering through rows of vines until he could stand behind Shawn, he crouched down to put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Okay, I think you have a serious problem.” he said, pulling Shawn to his feet. “They’re pumpkins, Spencer. You just pick the nearest one, pay for it, and then we can finally go home and get something to eat. _It is_ _not that big of a deal._ ” Lassiter put as much emphasis into his words as possible without actually losing his temper. He was definitely frustrated, but getting angry about it wasn't going to help anything. He grabbed Shawn by the shoulders and tried to steer him towards the small building where the farm’s owner did business.

Struggling out of Lassiter’s grip and making an affronted noise, Shawn almost immediately spun himself back around. “It’s not _just_ a pumpkin Lassie!” he argued emphatically. “It’s _our_ pumpkin! It has to be just right because-” he cut off then, only for the briefest few seconds, but enough for Lassiter to raise one of his eyebrows. Shawn broke eye contact and cleared his throat before suddenly deciding to backtrack. “It just needs to be a good one, and none of these look right, okay? I mean, what will Gus say when he comes back from his boring job thing to find that you and I didn’t find a good pumpkin to carve?”

Lassiter stayed silent, eyeing Shawn closely for a few moments. The man was shuffling slightly, grinning wide but not in the sunny way he usually did when he was excited about something. Lassiter crossed his arms as he thought about the way Shawn had paused; initially he hadn’t understood the significance of finding "the right pumpkin", since the squash would just end up being eaten or thrown way anyways, but now he was starting to get a good idea as to why it was so important to Shawn.

He let out a breath of air but put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I have to go talk to the guy that owns this place for a little bit anyways.” Lassiter said, shooing Shawn away with a look and waggle of his fingers. “That means you’ve got another fifteen minutes if it’s so important to you. Just find one soon and maybe I won’t have to drive us both back in the dark.”

Shawn’s smile did brighten then and he hurried off to the far end of the patch, running like an idiot but thankfully not tripping over anything. Lassiter couldn’t ignore the amusement the sight brought him and as he headed for the farmhouse, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

*             *             * 

When Lassiter was finished with his business he found Shawn frantically turning a pumpkin over in his hands, rolling the thing back and forth as though hoping to make it rounder. The psychic detective was dusted all over with dirt, had bits of leaves stuck to the knees of his jeans, and his fingers were filthy from all the rummaging around he’d been doing in the pumpkin patch.

“Found anything good yet?” As Lassiter spoke Shawn let out a humongous sigh, putting the pumpkin down.

“Not exactly, but I guess this one will have to do.” he said dejectedly, still looking at the stout little pumpkin where it was lying in the dirt, tilted slightly to one side. It was much smaller than some he’d been looking at before, but considering how far away from the main patch it was, Lassiter wasn’t surprised.

Letting his eyes roam over Shawn’s back as he tried to steel the expression on his face, Lassiter paused for a few moments before clearing his throat. “Would this one work any better?” he asked off-handedly, watching as Shawn spun around and his face broke into a proper grin.

The detective held up a pumpkin that must have been three times the size of Shawn’s head. It was a little flatter on one side where it had been laying against the ground, and Lassiter thought the stem needed to be cut a bit shorter, but otherwise it looked almost perfect. There was plenty of room to carve, it was more round than some of the tall, oblong pumpkins, and Lassiter had spent a good five minutes making sure there weren’t any bad spots on it.

Shawn looked like a kid in a candy store (or, apparently, a thirty-something year old fake psychic in a pumpkin patch), as he tried to take the pumpkin from Lassiter. As soon as the weight shifted from one man to the other, Shawn’s eyes bugged out and he staggered backwards.

“Holy cow Lassie, it’s huge!” he shoved the squash back into Lassiter’s arms but laughed all the same, looking delighted. “You brought me pumpkin-zilla.” he mused, patting the pumpkin’s rind and listening to the noise it made before grinning up at his boyfriend. “Where did you even find this thing?”

Figuring it would save some him some time and trouble, Lassiter had gone to the owner of the farm and simply asked the man where he could find the biggest, best pumpkin that the patch had to offer. He knew it would probably cost more than it should (and definitely more than a smaller pumpkin), but Lassiter had a feeling that the reason Shawn wanted to find the perfect pumpkin was because it was technically their first Halloween together as a real couple.

Shawn was a ridiculous handful at best, but he was now _Lassiter’s_ ridiculous handful, and maybe something about the phony psychic was rubbing on off him, because Lassiter had to admit that he found the idea a lit bit romantic. It was certainly nice to have found someone he cared about that didn’t want extravagant gifts or for him to take time off from work that he couldn’t always afford to take- Shawn was easy to please most of the time, so long as Lassiter didn’t mind giving him lots of attention, sharing half of Shawn’s life with Guster on any given day, and the random off-the-wall requests that always seemed to pop up (like finding an impossible pumpkin in an honest to god pumpkin patch).

Of course, if anyone other than O’Hara even _hinted_ that Lassiter might be acting the slightest bit romantic or sweet, the detective would deny it to his grave.

Instead of simply telling Shawn the truth, Lassiter couldn’t resist an opportunity to poke a little fun. “This old thing? It took what… ten minutes for me to find it? Easier than booking a suspect.” he said casually, pretending as though Shawn hadn't been searching for such a pumpkin for ages. “Of course, maybe you’re just losing you’re ‘psychic touch’.” As he’d already paid for the monstrous vegetable in his arms, the detective grinned deviously and started for the car, listening to Shawn’s cry of mock-outrage.

“Me? Losing to Carlton Lassiter? The apocalypse must be coming.” Shawn said easily, fast-walking for a moment to catch up to Lassiter before they both fell into step together. “That just can’t be right… it must be witchcraft!” he decided, turning to dash behind Lassiter and try to push the man towards their car. “Run Lassie! Run and hide in this strange horseless carriage. If the locals find you, they’ll burn you and make you into steak!” he cried. “Run and save your eternal soul!”

Lassiter deliberately walked as slow as possible, ignoring the weight against his back and forcing Shawn to push harder and harder with little to no change in the detective’s speed. “You know, witches were burnt _at_ the stake,” he corrected without even thinking, already knowing the response that would come. “They weren’t cooked _into_ steaks.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.” Shawn offered in the familiar, but not unwelcome way. “Besides, how do you know they won’t roast you on a spit or something Lassie?” he asked, giving up his attempt at forcing his boyfriend to the alleged safety of the car. “Times have changed; modern witches and wizards could become the harvest meal for all the local well-to-do families. It's much better to be safe.”

As he popped the trunk and levered the pumpkin into it, Lassiter let out a snort of amusement, imagining Shawn trussed up like a pork dinner on some rich family’s dining table. “If that were the case, as a _psychic_ you’d probably be the main course.” he said slyly, slamming the trunk shut and winking at Shawn before he got in the driver’s seat.

While they drove back home, Shawn continued babbling on about witches, pumpkin carving, and all the other Halloween festivities he apparently needed to plan with Lassiter before the week was finished (not even remotely taking into account the amount of work Lassiter still had to do at the station the following day). It was monotonous and mostly inane drivel, but somehow Shawn’s nonsense had become the norm for the detective in the past few months.

And at the very least, if the talking got too annoying, Lassiter could look forward to stabbing something in the near future, even if it was only going to be an enormous pumpkin.


	3. Fall Treats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, but I wasn't feeling so great today and yesterday was the birthday of my twin sisters, so I got really busy. This chapter is technically for Day 3, and I might get to posting today's if I can pull it out quick enough.
> 
> On a side note, I adore baking so this is the second time that I've written Shassie baking things (the first was for Shassie Week). Apparently though it brings out the worst in me because bad innuendos and implied (but not really written), sexytimes are mentioned in both and I have no idea why. Oh well!

Waking up before noon was generally a strange occurrence for Shawn, so it took a few minutes of hazy half-consciousness before he realized why he’d been awakened at only ten in the morning.

The first thing that he noticed was that Lassie’s side of the bed was empty. When it came to the few days the detective had off (though the number had grown to more normal human standards ever since Shawn had moved in), Lassiter usually preferred to sleep in and cuddle. Shawn had been delighted the first time he’d woken up early on a Sunday and found that his boyfriend wasn’t already dressed and making use of the daylight hours; instead Lassiter had grumbled to him to “come back to bed”, and then long arms had wrapped around Shawn’s chest. Nowadays, it was often times Shawn that jumped out of bed first on the weekends (only the weekends, mind you), prepared to take full advantage of a sunny Saturday by playing video games or having the bi-weekly movie marathon with Gus, wandering around town, or dragging Lassiter to some new place where they could have some much needed fun after a long, crime-filled week.

So when he rolled over and realized how roomy the bed was when no one else was in it, Shawn figured that Lassiter was already awake and trying to work on something important. It wasn’t until he took in a deep breath through his nose, body preparing for a yawn, that he realized what had stirred him from dreamland.

Something smelled _amazing_.

Shawn took another whiff and then yawned properly, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. If he was going to get an early wake-up call, this was definitely the way to go. It was the sort of feeling one got when the first thing that caught your senses in the morning was the smell of cooking waffles or a steaming pot of coffee. Everything just felt warm, comfortable, and familiar. Except, it wasn’t coffee that Shawn smelled this morning, which was odd- the beverage was basically a staple in Lassiter’s household. Instead, something smelled like autumn spices and warm, fresh bread.

Of course, then Shawn’s curiosity was piqued because he didn’t remember falling asleep in the bakery he and Lassie sometimes stopped off to for breakfast when they had to go to the station in a hurry. Whatever it was that smelled so good, it was definitely coming from their kitchen, and while Shawn knew Lassiter could get extremely domestic at times, he never remembered the man mentioning anything about morning baking.

After rolling off the mattress and grabbing some boxers, Shawn headed for the bathroom. Once he’d taken care of business, found some slippers, and managed to put on a clean shirt that actually belonged to him for once (no one could blame him for occasionally stealing Lassie’s- they were so roomy and they smelled like the detective), he shuffled out of the bedroom.

Shawn plopped himself down at the little dining room table first thing, just as Lassiter was bending over to take something out of the oven. Shawn grinned, enjoying the view of his boyfriend’s backside in plaid pajama pants before he finally spoke up. “Good morning my knight in shining apron,” he mumbled, still stretching to wake himself up. “Is there an event I should know about, or have you finally found a recipe for squirrel pie?”

Lassiter had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows like he always did when working, and he pulled out two rectangular pans, looking at Shawn quizzically. “I didn’t think you’d be up while the phrase ‘good morning’ was still chronologically accurate.” he said, amused at Shawn’s disheveled appearance- the phony psychic’s hair was sticking out at all angles. “And while I despise the local rodentia, I would donate my entire collection of Clint Eastwood DVDs to charity before I’d even _think_ of consuming one.”

Shawn was glad he didn’t have anything to drink, otherwise milk might have come out of his nose. “Alright then Lassiepants, if squirrels are off the menu, then what have you been up to all alone out here without me?” he asked, leaving his seat so that he could sidle up to Lassiter, hooking his thumbs on either side of the detective’s apron ties. It was one of the many aprons that Shawn had bought for Lassiter, this one patterned with pineapples that had jack-o-lantern faces and little bat wings for Halloween. Since the man had refused full-body ones when Shawn had insisted on buying aprons if Lassiter was going to cook for him, the fake psychic had been forced to go with the kind that just tied around the waist.

As Shawn grinned Lassiter blushed but tried to play it cool, his ears going pink as he cleared his throat. “Uh, well… there’s a bake sale coming up for the SBPD and, um the Chief figured that everyone should participate.” He shimmied out of Shawn’s grip in order to deposit the hot pans onto the stovetop. “So I made pumpkin bread. I wasn’t sure if the recipe would come out well, so I figured you and I could taste-test the first batch to make sure everything tastes alright.”

Shawn wrapped Lassiter in a hug from behind, inhaling the heavenly scent of fresh pumpkin bread as the detective flipped over one of the pans onto a small baking rack, trying to make the loaf fall out. “Rule number one of dating Shawn Spencer; make me food and I am a happy camper.” he said, opening a nearby drawer to grab out a long knife and hand it to Lassiter.

The detective’s ears were still slightly pink, but he was smirking now. “Is that so? I thought rule number one was ‘always leave a space for Guster’, or has that changed?” he took the knife and cut the bread into reasonably even slices, not removing himself from Shawn’s embrace.

Still not awake yet since he hadn’t eaten breakfast, Shawn just made up for their missed cuddle time by snuggling into Lassiter’s shirt. “You make it sound like all those awful pamphlets with ‘Leave room for Jesus’ on them when you say it like that.” he said, laughing. “And stop being bashful you handsome, pasty devil; I bet they’ll taste great. Do we get to eat those now? Because I’m starving and I might not have the energy to make us breakfast this morning since I’ve been evicted from our bed at such an awful hour.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes, trying to grab some butter and a knife to go with it, all the while maneuvering with a human cling-on stuck to his back. “I figured you’d want some. Besides, this stuff is usually best when you eat it right out of the oven.” he said, slathering some butter on four slices before handing a plate of two over his shoulder for Shawn to take.

Grabbing the plate eagerly and scurrying off to the table, Shawn’s stomach growled loudly. “See Lassie? Completely starving, just like I said.” He was nice enough to wait for Lassiter to grab them both some orange juice and take a seat on the other side of the table before he finally dug into the bread.

Lassiter watched Shawn’s expression carefully, not yet touching his own slices. After Shawn had eaten a few bites, he spoke up. “Well, do you think these will get the Chief off my back? Ever since I missed the last two bake sale fundraisers, she’s been hounding me.” he shook his head, hands clasped over the table the same way he did when interrogating a suspect.

Shawn continued to chew without pause until he’d finished off the first piece.

Restless, Lassiter had both eyebrows raised. “Let me have it, what’s the verdict?” he asked.

It took Shawn another few moments before he swallowed, drank some of his juice and then let out a contented sigh. “Lassie the verdict is a resounding _hot damn_.” He took his second piece and bit into the warm, perfectly moist bread, speaking with his mouth full. “I might have to tie you to the oven for the next twenty four hours and force you to do nothing but bake awesome pumpkin bread for me. Maybe you should make something else for the autumn bake sale because none of this bread is going to leave the house. Or my face.”

Lassiter looked very pleased as he leaned back in his chair, picking up one of his own pieces and taking a couple bites. “Mmmm, not bad.” he nodded, not bothering to nag Shawn about speaking with food in his mouth. “I do need something for the bake sale though, or Vick will have my head. I guess you’ll just have to give some bread up for the greater good. Unless of course you wanted to help me make something else?”

Shawn’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “I thought you’d never ask.” he said, delighted. “Gus showed me these cupcakes online that have skull cups and the tops look like brains- how totally cool would that be? It’d be like serving up someone’s head on a platter but you won’t get grey matter in your teeth.”

Lassiter scowled. “That’s disgusting.” he pointed out, handing over his now empty plate so that Shawn could take it to the kitchen sink. “But as long as there are no actual black market purchases or nightly jaunts to defile someone’s grave, then I don’t care. We can make brain cupcakes and keep the pumpkin bread.” He snickered to himself for a moment. “Unless of course you still plan to tie me to the oven today?”

Returning with another three pieces of bread, one of them doused in cinnamon sugar, Shawn gave his best seductive look. “I don’t know Lassie…” he seemed to be thinking the idea over. “I could always get the handcuffs instead. What do you think? You, me, a toasty oven and all the pumpkin bread we could eat on this cozy autumn morning? I could make frosting if you want something a little more… _spreadable_.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Lassiter got that look again, the one that Shawn had decided lay between affectionately amused, and completely affronted. “We are not defiling the kitchen when there are bake sale confectioneries that need to be made.” he said sternly, stealing a slice of bread off of Shawn’s plate. “And last time you tried to do anything in the kitchen, you almost slipped and hit your head, remember?”

Shawn sighed, sliding his plate out of Lassiter’s reach as the detective tried to steal another bite of bread. “Hey, get your own!” he said haughtily, as though Lassiter hadn’t been the one to spend half the morning baking the bread in the first place. “Besides, I didn’t hit my head because you caught me. And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

There was a twinkle in Lassiter’s eye for a moment, but he left the table to put their glasses in the sink, so it was quickly hidden. “I’ll give you that one.” he admitted, leaning his back against one of the counters. “And I didn’t mean we can’t do something _later_ …” he trailed off casually, twirling a wooden spoon around in one hand. “Now are you going to help or not? These cupcakes aren’t going to bake themselves and I for one would like to spend the rest of the day doing something _else_ that involves handcuffs.”

Shawn jumped from his seat so fast that the chair he’d been sitting on actually fell over.


	4. Trading Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently lateness is a thing that is going to keep happening, partially because I wasn't feeling well yesterday and I was still kind of tired today (not to mention the amount of schoolwork I have)
> 
> Here is a shorter one-shot, but at least it's still over 1000 words, so I hope you enjoy it anyways.

“Two Whoppers for my pack of M&M’s.”

“Not going to happen, Spencer. However, I will raise you one pack of Whoppers if you’re willing to hand over that Milkyway Midnight.”

Juliet was just preparing to sit down for her lunch hour when she came upon a rather peculiar sight. Detective Lassiter was at his desk, elbows perched upon the surface, with three uneven piles of candy sitting to one side. The other end of the man’s desk was currently taken up with Shawn Spencer’s butt as he sat cross-legged, something that might have been a pillowcase sitting in between his legs as the two men stared each other down.

“I might consider such an offer,” Shawn was saying, reaching over to the much larger of Lassiter’s candy piles and snatching something from it, setting it down in one of the two smaller piles between them. “But only if you add in your Life Saver’s Gummies and a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.” He grinned widely, rummaging around in the bag between his legs for a few moments. “If that doesn’t sweeten your tea Lassie, then how about I up the ante with a packet of Skittles?”

Lassiter seemed to be considering the idea, pushing around a few of the candies in the pile closest to Shawn. “Hmmm, that doesn’t even out the chocolate factor though.” he said finally, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from his gun-handled coffee cup. “I could always offer you the gummies along with a box of Dots instead. What do you say?”

Amused by the way Shawn picked up the box of gummy candies in one hand, the Milkyway Midnight in the other, and seemed to be weighing the two candies, Juliet abandoned her desk and walked over to Lassiter’s.

“What are you guys doing?” she asked. “Carlton, I thought you were supposed to be having lunch? I’d better not see you trying to eat while we’re going over the burglary files again- last time you almost got mayonnaise on our suspect’s mug shot.” she chastised.

Lassiter broke the staring contest he and Shawn had been sharing to face his partner. “I am eating lunch.” he argued, holding up a half-wrapped sandwich that had been blocked from view by Shawn’s knee. “Can’t you see we’re busy O’Hara? This isn’t a game we’re playing right now; this is _war_.”

Grabbing Lassiter’s coffee cup like it was the most natural thing in the world, Shawn grinned at the two detectives. “You don’t want to get in the middle of this Jules.” he said sagely, taking a sip of Lassiter’s coffee and making a face at the taste. “Me and Lassie are three Kitkats away from making a deal. If you want to trade, you’ll have to wait until after we’re done or we’ll have to start all over again.”

Before Shawn could take another drink, Lassiter snatched his cup back with a glare. It was a testament to his and Shawn’s relationship though that the detective drank from the mug again without washing it or getting a new one. Juliet didn’t bother to mention the fact that Shawn was sitting on Lassiter’s desk as well, since if her partner didn’t mind, she’d rather not push the subject.

Instead, she looked over at the bag in Shawn’s lap and realized it was, in fact, a white pillowcase, filled with what must have been five pounds of assorted candy. “So what, you two are trading?” she asked, laughing at the childishness and the absurdity of the idea. Oh she always used to do the same with her bothers after Halloween as a child, and if Shawn wanted to do it too she might just have to get the candy she’d bought and bring it the following day, but to see her stoic and grouchy partner allowing such a thing to happen at the _station_ of all places was definitely amusing.

“It’s more bartering, but yes Jules, that is exactly what we’re doing.” Shawn answered. “I for one would be quite pleased with this simple arrangement,” he gestured to the two smaller piles of candy on Lassiter’s desk. “But apparently Lassie McFussypants thinks it’s not a fair deal.”

Juliet looked at the contents of the two piles for a moment, realizing that the largest was Lassiter’s stash, while the other two were the trading piles. “Which ones is the pile of candy you want, Shawn?” she asked, assuming that one pile was of Shawn’s candy that Lassiter wanted; the other, a pile from Lassiter’s that Shawn wanted.

“These glorious morsels.” Shawn said enthusiastically, pointing to the cluster that was closest to him. “Which will shortly belong to _me,_ when you agree that Lassie is just being stubborn and needs to realize what a generous offer I’ve made.”

Juliet made a humming noise in concentration, moving a couple candy bars around in the piles here or there in order to better look at something underneath. After a few minute she stood back up, looking thoughtful. “Nope, I think Carlton is right Shawn; your pile has a far higher chocolate-to-sugar candy ratio. Trading rules say that you’ve got to have a fair amount of chocolate and non-chocolate candies if you’re going to trade. You’d better up your bid.”

Shawn looked affronted. “You’re as bad as Gus!” he said, gesturing to the candy. “It doesn’t matter as long as both parties are happy, right? Well I’d be happy if Lassie would just hand over his Almond Joy.”

Lassiter crossed his arms now, shaking his head. “Too bad, Spencer!” He was using his cop voice now and Juliet had to try not to laugh. “I’m not happy, so there’s no deal. You’ll have to do better than a few Tootsie Pops, since they only count for half-chocolate.”

Juliet knew how stubborn her partner and Shawn could both be, so she figured she might as well give them a little bit of help in solving their debate. She leaned in close to Shawn even as Lassiter grinned in what he assumed to be a victory. “Trust me on this, if you offer up a couple bags of Reese’s Pieces, he’ll be in the palm of your hand.” she whispered. “Oh, and if you want that Almond Joy, you can always offer up a Mounds instead, since they’re almost the same. Carlton prefers dark chocolate anyways.”

Shawn thanked her with a fist-bump and started rummaging through his bag. He was too preoccupied with his search to notice that Juliet winked at her partner over his shoulder, before she gave Lassiter a thumbs-up. “Alright Lassie, I didn’t want to bring out the big guns, but I guess you gave me no choice.” Shawn withdrew a handful of carefully picked candies, laying them out in a neat row between the two smaller piles of candy.

“One-time offer, you take it or leave it.” he said, moving his hands away to reveal the line of candies. “I’ll swap a Mounds for your Almond Joy, and for the rest of it, I’ll add two bags of Reese’s Pieces to the pot along with a dark chocolate Kitkat to trade for your pile.” He paused, tapping his chin for a few seconds. “And you have to add that pink Tootsie Roll that rolled under your sandwich wrapper. Deal?”

Lassiter’s mouth hung open for a second as his brows knit in confusion. He moved his sandwich, wrapper and all, pulling out the little pink candy. “How did you even…” he shook his head. “I’m not even going to ask. Let me think a minute.”

Shaw could see him eyeing the Reese’s Pieces like Juliet had said, and he had a feeling they’d finally landed on a deal. Lassiter’s fingers were pressed together like a steeple and he was staring intently at the two piles with complete and utter focus. Looking from one man to the other, Juliet wondered how long the silence would last before someone finally snapped.

“Alright.” Lassiter said at last, leaning back in his chair but snatching a piece from out of Shawn’s pillowcase bag. “But, only if you throw in a vanilla Tootsie Roll.” he countered, holding up the aforementioned candy.

Shawn gave a holler of delight, starting to scoop up his side of the sugary treasure trove. “Deal!” he said quickly, already unwrapping one of the lollipops and shoving it in his mouth. “Y’know, you and I should do this more often Lassie.” he mumbled, half the syllables getting mushed together because his mouth was preoccupied. “You’ve got the best candy-bartering poker face ever.”

Finishing his coffee and sandwich, Lassiter smiled smugly but relaxed with a nod. “Don’t ever doubt it, Spencer. You’re just lucky we weren’t playing any real poker, or I would have cleaned you out.”

Shawn froze in his candy escapades, grinning slyly. “Is that so? After my amazing win for one of Psych’s clients years ago?” he shook a finger at his boyfriend. “Please Lassie, no one beats me at poker, and I smell a challenge. You’d better hope I don’t take you up on that offer, because if I had any say in the matter we’d be playing _strip_ poker.”

“Well then, I guess you’d better put on your nicest boxers when we get home because I plan on _winning_.” Lassiter countered with a smirk, swiveling his chair around to throw out the trash from his lunch. It wasn’t until he heard Shawn’s sudden snickering that the look of self-satisfaction disappeared from his face as he realized Juliet was still standing within earshot, looking far too amused.

“You’d better spill on who wins.” she said cheekily, winking at Shawn before heading back to her desk. Lassiter had gone scarlet and was suddenly very interested in his blank computer screen. “I expect full details at lunch tomorrow!” Juliet said in a sing-song, humming in delight as she resumed eating her own lunch.

As Shawn began to cackle loudly, Lassiter shoved him off of the desk with a growl. The fake psychic only laughed harder as he sprawled on the floor, taking in the confused glances of the other officers and passerby that were near.

He didn’t stop until Vick walked by with a quick “Knock it off you two, and get back to work.” By then Gus had arrived to drive Shawn to the Psych office, and while Lassiter spent the rest of the day complaining about his “idiotic, fraudulent boyfriend”, Shawn spent the rest of the day eating up candy.

Of course, he made sure to save plenty of it for when Lassiter got home.


	5. Pumpkin Carving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the one-shots aren't specifically linked, this one does technically connect to the second one as there's mention of the pumpkin patch and how large the pumpkin in question actually is. Thanks for all the kudos guys, it's good to know people are enjoying this, even if I've been awful at updating on the appropriate days.
> 
> (Also I sure as hell hope that these guys have been at least somewhat in character. I don't usually write on-the-fly or in shorter stories like this, so I worry about quality a lot.)

This was it… he’d finally seen the end. No way out, no one to rescue him from such a grisly and strangely imaginative demise. Shawn had finally used up all his luck, and now it was time for him to meet a sticky, slimy end. It would apparently be the sort of slimy end that had a million little seeds and terrible, stringy lumps of flesh that clung to every exposed piece of skin, every kind of fabric or accessory.

“Lassie, promise me the funeral will be a nice one.” Shawn said in despair, laid out upon the dining room floor, arms splayed dramatically. Somewhere in the next room over, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” was blaring from every speaker. “I want a forty-two gun salute, and there need to be strippers, a pineapple carved to look like a swan, and maybe some tissues for Gus. Actually, a lot of tissues for Gus; he’s a sympathetic crier.”

For his part, Carlton Lassiter looked very relaxed as he listened to his boyfriend’s apparent last request. “You’re not dying.” he said firmly, gripping a long and rather unfriendly-looking knife in one hand, his fingers smeared with something wet. “Now get your ass off the floor and help me scoop out this damn thing, or I might just kill you myself.”

Shawn groaned but managed to sit up, picking little bits of squashy guts from his sleeves. “But it’s gooey.” he insisted, frowning at the large pumpkin that was currently sat in the middle of their dining room table. “Plus, I think that pumpkin is out to get me. I tried to dump out the seeds and you know what happened? Half rolled onto the floor and the rest stayed stuck in there. I demand a refund!”

Dishing out lumps of pumpkin innards and depositing them into a large rectangular pan, Lassiter sighed. “It’s not out to get anyone Shawn, it’s a vegetable. You just need to put your back into it.” He ignored the request for monetary reimbursement and squinted suddenly at his pouting boyfriend, setting down his tools. “Hang on; you’ve got a seed in your hair.”

Shawn waited patiently as Lassiter wiped the juice and slime from his hands and then carefully untangled a few seeds from Shawn’s head. “See?” the fake psychic admonished. “Totally out to get me. I don’t see you having to pick pumpkin seeds out of your hair. Why did we get a pumpkin this big again?”

Lassiter gave Shawn his usual ‘are you an idiot?’ look. “Maybe you wouldn’t get seeds in your hair if you weren’t holding a funeral on the kitchen tiles.” he said. “It unsanitary and just generally ridiculous. Besides, _you_ should be gutting this orange atrocity since you’re the one that wanted a pumpkin in the first place. I even cut it open and started for you.”

“Remember what I said about not having a pumpkin? _Halloween atrocity_.” Shawn picked up something that looked closer to an ice-cream scoop than a spoon, but he started digging away at the pumpkin’s inner flesh anyways. “Besides Lassie, you’re the one that picked it out for me because you were being romantic.” he grinned dopily. “You big sweetheart, you.”

Lassiter retaliated by ruffling the man’s hair as he walked past, making it stick up unevenly and probably smell like pumpkin guts. “I don’t know what you mean.” the detective challenged, dumping out some of the seeds that had begun piling up in one of the many bowls he’d lain out on the table. “I was just trying to get us out of that pumpkin patch before I had to start filling out retirement papers. If you’d had your way we probably would have bought something twice this size anyways.”

Shawn could only agree to that, seeing as he had originally wanted to carve Godzilla into the large squash until Lassiter insisted that no one sold such a pattern. Shawn had tried to argue that he could carve Godzilla himself, but the detective had declared that if he had to deal with Shawn’s shenanigans and make up for the wasted hours at the patch, then he would at least get to do the carving.

Stabbing something was therapeutic, apparently, as long as the victim was a large vegetable, and no laws were actually being broken.

That left Shawn to dig out the insides, which he’d always hated since he was a kid, and he’d gotten about halfway through the job before the eulogy started and Lassiter had finally come to his aid. Between the two of them, finishing up the inside of the pumpkin and scooping it out to just the right thinness only took another ten or so minutes once they actually put some effort into it. When that was done and the overall mess had been cut down to something more manageable, then Lassiter sat next to Shawn and held out a sharpie.

“Alright, what did you want on this?” he asked. “Just make sure I can tell what to cut and what not to cut; nothing too fancy either since it’s a pumpkin, not some Picasso painting.” Lassiter might have been grumpy, but he knew Shawn really wanted to make the pumpkin special so he handed over the marker, watching with interest as Shawn thought for a moment and then began to draw.

He may have been a phony psychic, but Shawn was at least a pretty decent artist if he put his mind to it. After all, he’d managed to draw a good likeness of a dinosaur on the fly once, so he could probably pull something out in a few minutes for Lassiter to carve.

The detective admired the look of concentration on his boyfriend’s face and the way that Shawn’s eyes seemed a little brighter when he was so keenly focused. “Is this going to be a surprise or are you going to tell me what you’re doing?” Lassiter asked after a few minutes of complete silence. It always felt odd when Shawn wasn’t making noise or keeping up some kind of lively conversation.

“Almost done Lassie, hold your cows.” Shawn answered, making a shushing noise while still hunched over. He swiveled the pumpkin slightly to one side in order to work on it more easily, and then with a final flourish he pulled the sharpie away and popped the cap back on. “Ta-da! My masterpiece awaits your knife.”

Lassiter stood up to get a better look and tilted his head from one side to another, trying to make out Shawn’s design amidst scribbles and black cross-hatching that had been used to shade in the parts he was meant to cut away. “And this is supposed to be… what?” Lassiter felt like there was something he was missing; it was right there and yet he couldn’t quite grasp what Shawn had drawn.

“It’s obvious Lassie!” Shawn said, pointing to certain sections of the drawing like an odd game of connect-the-dots. “It’s a T-Rex.”

Lassiter followed Shawn’s fingers as he mapped out the intricate row of sharp teeth, the ridge of an eye and part of one claw. Of all the silly things to have drawn... “Are dinosaurs the only thing you actually know how to draw?” the detective asked with a laugh. “Because Guster told me about that drawing of the devil you did one time that took you thirty minutes.”

Shawn shook a finger at him, adding a tongue click in annoyance. “I may have fudged the details on that one, since it only took me about twenty if I don’t count the time it took to find a blank piece of paper. Besides, what’s cooler than a dinosaur on a pumpkin?” he asked.

“A tank.” Lassiter answered immediately, apparently having thought out such a question in advance. “An Ak-47, hand grenades, the silhouette of a headless horsemen…” he seemed to be ticking the ideas off on his fingers, using the tone of voice he used to reserve for mocking Shawn’s theories at the station. “A decapitated squirrel, a skeleton, or you know what? Maybe even just a regular jack-o-lantern face.”

Shawn grabbed the carving knife from off of the table with some fervor, looking a little insulted. “Har har, very funny. If you can’t appreciate the work I put into this, then I’ll just carve it myself.” He stuck the knife into the middle of one of the blacked-out sections of the pumpkin, wobbling it up and down in what might have been an attempt at sawing.

Before the man could hurt himself, Lassiter placed his hand over Shawn’s; their fingers interlocking around the knife’s handle. “Calm down I was only joking.” he said, stilling the frantic motion of the blade. Lassiter rolled his eyes but kissed the top of Shawn’s head to prove he didn’t mean anything by the earlier remarks. “You’ll end up cutting your hand off that way, slow down a little and saw forward and backwards, not up and down.”

Working in tandem, the two carefully followed the lines Shawn had drawn, cutting out piece by piece, nestled together with Shawn’s back against Lassiter’s chest. “See?” Shawn said as he popped one of the dinosaur’s teeth from the pumpkin’s main body. “You’re my big romantic Lassie bear. Look at us, spooning it up half-moon style at the table!”

“Shut up.” the detective grumbled, but he didn’t bother to move aside or take his hand away, even after it became obvious that Shawn didn’t really need any help with the carving.

When the two put their pumpkin beside the doorstep on Halloween night a few days later, it glowed just as brightly as any regular jack-o-lantern. One of the sections separating two of the teeth had accidentally broken off when Shawn’s hand had slipped, and the eye had turned out bigger than the initial drawing because Lassiter had become overzealous with the knife, but the tyrannosaurus rex still looked pretty fierce.

(Of course, when Halloween was over and done with, Shawn had taken the pumpkin to the Psych office on November first and managed to rig the thing to dangle from the ceiling by Gus's desk. His best friend had shrieked loudly enough for a passing woman to offer assistance, and when Lassiter got to hear the story the following day, he decided that carving a tyrannosaurus rex into a giant pumpkin had definitely been worth the effort.)

 

 

 

 


End file.
